The Becoming of a Blacksmith
by FugitSomnium
Summary: Gendry thought he was just another lowborn from Flea Bottom. But when subsequent events lead him to the truth, he's now on his own to live his life while escaping the people who want his blood. He's off to hide in plain sight, in King's Landing. First 4 chapters TV based. Ch 5 is start of his rowing adventure. Rating is M for that scene in Ch 3. Eventual Gendrya. R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi! It's been awhile since I've written anything. So try to be kind. :) All characters don't belong to me, and I can only dare dream and try to grasp the complexity of what George R.R. Martin has created. Hopeful thinking, yeah. First few chapters are based on the series, so I borrowed HBO's lines but later on I'll use more of my own to fill the gaps the series never showed us and later on I'll diverge a bit from the way things played out in the series. So yeah, I hope you guys enjoy. I will try to do my best in making it enjoyable. :)**

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There was nothing like the sight of fire and the feel of metal that could calm his soul. He loved the feeling of being in control, of creating something, and making it better. Most of all, he needed a distraction from his thoughts.

It's been awhile since he had been passed to the Night's Watch by his mentor, Tobho Mott, the memory always associated with a pang of bitterness and slight betrayal. He was good at being a blacksmith, he had done no wrong except for refusing to sell his helmet to the Hand of the King once, but even so he respected his mentor too much to put up any resistance. Being a blacksmith is all he has ever known, and it's something he prides himself in being. He isn't much of a fighter, he wasn't that courageous either. He knew he was strong, but when it came to being brave, his highborn friend in disguise trumped him any day. It's frustrating that a tiny girl could be so strong. He doesn't even understand why it bothers him, that she didn't need him as much as he wanted to be needed. He remembered the first time he saw her, she found herself in a fight with those two kids, Lommy and Hot Pie, threatening to poke him with her sword, things weren't playing out the way she wanted it to, he could tell. So he jumped in and scared them away. Oddly enough, that was the beginning of their friendship. He recalled that for a short time he did think her to be male, her hair was all chopped off and she was too young and too thin to arise any suspicions. But he noticed her, always running off to a far away place to piss and being overly cautious when she does. Then he knew, but he had no desire to pry. Every single person they were traveling with had their reasons for traveling to the Wall, and he had no intention of trying to dig too deep into the topic.

"What are you doing here?" said a familiar voice.

He had no need to even look up to see her face, he already knew it all too well. All the calmness his work gave him was swept away in an instant. He braced himself for the conversation that was bound to unfold.

"Just mending Lord Beric's armor", he replied nonchalantly. He knew her too well, he sensed there would be more questions to come.

"Why?", she asked without an ounce of suspicion or comprehension.

He took a breath to calm his nerves before he finally told her, "I'm going to stay on and smith for the Brotherhood." He saw her face show how incredulous she thought his decision to be, and it wasn't like Arya to ever hold back her emotions or opinions on anything.

"Have you lost your mind?! When the Lannisters find this place, you think they'll spare the smiths? They'll cave your head in with your helmet."

He knew she had a point, but really he thought this through. There was no other place he could think of to go and belong. He knows his life will always be wanted by those damn red cloaks. He told Arya as much. Predictably, she went on about her family, her brother Robb, the King in the North. But he just...couldn't.

He and Arya could never stay friends, he was just a lowborn without even a last name, and she-she's a Stark, a highborn, no matter how unlady like she acts. It's only here in the woods, with the adventure of them being both on the run and wanted by the Lannisters that they bonded. Once she goes back home, and she **will** get back home, everything will be over. The Brotherhood is his chance for something, to be somebody.

"These men are brothers, they're a _family_ ", he finally said. After everything that happened so far, being found by the Brotherhood was the best thing that has happened, a blessing in disguise. It's the closest damn thing to home, a family, a place where he was appreciated. He was glad to be needed, it never occurred to him that feeling relevant in some way was what he craved for. He wouldn't find that anywhere else. He was certain he wouldn't find it especially at Winterfell, or so he tried to convince himself.

"I could be your family", said Arya, with a hint of tears threatening to pour down her face but held back with restraint.

 _No,_ he thought, _you already have a family, you're a Stark._

He wished he could be her family too, but he wasn't too naive to be swayed by wishful thinking. As much as he wanted to stay with the person who saved his life and has become his closest friend, he knew he couldn't. He would always be a lowborn, and she a highborn. No matter how close they had gotten and how much they cherished each other, it was doomed to fail. They wouldn't be a family, he knew that much was true.

"You wouldn't be my family, you'd be my lady", he managed to reply pushing back the lump that was forming behind his throat. He hadn't meant for the words to be laced in sadness. Thank the Seven Gods she walked away at that moment, the fist clenching pain in his chest was taking over him. He took a deep breath, and focused on the hammer in his hand and continued mending the armor of Lord Beric. With every strike of the blacksmith hammer, he deepened his resolve in his decision, pushing away all the doubts and hopes he had away. Slowly, he resolved himself to his reality.


	2. Chapter 2

Things felt a bit strained now between Arya and Gendry, but it felt like they entered a silent truce that until their paths must part they will still have each other.

They were practicing archery in the forest with Anguy, or more like Anguy was teaching Arya how to shoot properly. They went on and on for hours, Anguy always reminding Arya not to aim. He tried archery before when they first arrived, but realized sooner rather than later that the bow and arrow were not meant for him. His aim was horrible and he hated himself for being bested by his highborn friend. She **always** hit the target. Though he hated being bested he couldn't stop the feeling of pride and awe at her abilities. She always made him want to be better, be braver, and be stronger. She just has that effect on him.

They were taking a break, with Anguy consulting him on the arrow tips he had and if he could maybe make some more. He held the pointed tip, examined it, and weighed it in his hand. It was well crafted, not too heavy to limit the range that it could fly, but it was sturdy and strong enough to pierce anything, flesh or wood, if fired at the right velocity and angle. "Can you make 'em?", Anguy asked him. He could make more of these, being a blacksmith is his domain after all. "Yeah, nothing tricky about it. Just need some decent steel", he replied.

The sound of approaching footsteps and hooves disturbed their conversation. They saw Thoros and Beric approaching them with a woman in a red cloak in their midst.

The three of them were silently watching as they came towards them, when Arya butted in saying "I don't like that woman." He had no clue who this woman in red was, "That's cause you're a girl" replied Anguy, to which he couldn't hide the smirk and look they both shared. He may not know the woman but he wasn't blind, she was beautiful, enchanting even.

Then he felt himself being wrestled, and the peaceful moment was gone as he heard someone say "Forgive me, lad."

He was being tied up by 2 men and placed in the cart, despite struggling with all his strength he couldn't shake them off. He could hear Arya arguing with the Brotherhood, accusing them of not stopping this woman from taking him. He couldn't understand, didn't want to understand, that all the things Arya said of him being sold off came too true and too quick.

 _It's not supposed to be this way, not yet_ , he thought.

Damn the Lord of Light, damn the Brotherhood who needed more gold than brothers.

The sense of betrayal and anger rose within his chest, "You told me this was a Brotherhood, you told me I could be one of you." he told to Beric, as he was being dragged away.

He didn't answer but the red woman did, "You are more than they can ever be. They're just foot soldiers in the great war. You will make kings rise and fall." Her voice sounded all-knowing, but her words just didn't fit.

He was tired now of fighting, of trying to stay with a family that again had passed him off. Then he heard Arya's voice screaming accusations at the red woman, "You're a witch, you're going to hurt him."

Even after their little disagreement, there she was, still trying to defend him, still trying to keep him from being hurt. The pain was too much to bear, and the shame was overwhelming him. He felt the cart move forward, but he didn't have the strength to look at Arya or to say goodbye.

 _It wasn't supposed to be this way, we were supposed to part once she went back to her family_ , he thought.

The words refused to leave his lips, he wanted to say good bye, call her mi'lady jokingly one last time, to fight with her, to tell her not to be too brave. He wanted to tell her to try her best to stay alive and he will too. All those thoughts and feelings left hanging in the silence. All he could think of was that the Lord of Light may have parted them, but hopefully the seven gods will unite them once again.

The sight of their standing figures soon blended into the trees, he could no longer hear Arya begging for the Brotherhood to stop them.

 _At least they'll take her back to her family_ , he thought, after all there was gold involved in her ransom. They wouldn't risk losing someone valuable, unlike him, just a tool in the games these highborns played. After what seemed to be hours, based on the setting sun, they arrived at the docks and he was brought onto a ship, sailing to who knows where. He wondered if it was going to King's Landing, if it was time for him to be killed by the Lannisters for whatever made up reason they had. He was released from his constraints once the ship had sailed, it's not like he could swim anyway. He watched the disappearing harbor, the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore and the ship. It was deafeningly silent, he missed the endless chatter from Arya, he could imagine her annoying the Brotherhood non-stop. He allowed a faint smile to grace his lips at the thought of the only highborn he appreciated having known. The sun set slowly, the golden light of day disappearing as he lost sight of the shore, he still didn't know why he was taken but for now he dared not ask. The tiredness of the day caught up to him and he allowed himself to rest while he could. He felt the ship rocking and the cool air all around, he slept alone for the first time since he left King's Landing. He missed the warmth of his companion's body beside him.

Each day passed like the one before them, but one day came where the view was no longer just the sea. He remembered the place vaguely, it looked like King's Landing, but he couldn't have been sure due to the amount of damage it took. Even the waters seemed different, like it was poisoned.

He was too curious and finally asked the red woman, "what happened?".

The red woman replied with one word, "Wildfire."

He had heard of wildfire and the madness that happened the last time it was used. It was a highborn's weapon, that he knew, and a very deadly one. Back in King's Landing once again, it seems like his life have come full circle. He was sent away from King's Landing to go to the Wall, only to be led here again.

"Do you miss it?", the red woman asked.

He wanted to laugh, "King's Landing?", was he supposed to miss this place where he was nothing. He was born here, but it was never home.

"Your father's house", she clarified.

He corrected her, "Never had a father. Never wanted one." _I have no family_ , _never will_ , he thought.

He thought that would be the end of it and was about to walk away but the red woman continued, "Haven't you ever wondered where your strength came from? Your talent for fighting?", there's something about her voice that was captivating like witchcraft. Either way, he was hooked into the conversation once again.

He reminded her, "I'm a lowborn, as low as can be. My mother was a tavern wench.", and he thought to himself _my strength came from my training to be a blacksmith, but i'm not that strong._

The red woman spoke again, "Mine was a slave, and so was I. Bought and sold, scourged and branded, until the Lord of Light reached down, took me in his hand and raised me up." He was shocked at that information to say the least, he relaxed a bit in her presence without even realizing it, but still didn't yield.

"I was born in Flea Bottom.", _there's nothing lower than Flea Bottom_.

He noticed the slight of a smile on the red woman's lips and looked at her wide seemingly all-seeing eyes, "Your blood is noble" she said, almost like a prophecy. He never knew who was his father but a highborn man with a tavern wench wouldn't be uncommon.

She pointed to the Red Keep and said "Your father's house".

"I'm just a bastard", _it's still a fact, I have nothing to do with those Lords or whatnot_.

"The bastard of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men. Why do you think the gold cloaks wanted you? There is power in a king's blood."

At that moment, all cautiousness escaped him, as he stared at King's Landing, and an inkling of hope crept into his body. Hope for what he didn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

The sight of water seemed endless. He had lost of count of how many times the sun had set since he got on the ship. He didn't know what to expect or to fear anymore on this long and winding journey.

 _He watched the shores of King's Landing come and pass. "I thought you were taking me to King's Landing," he said to the Red Woman._

 _She replied, "No, I'm taking you to the one true king, Lord Stannis Baratheon, your late father's brother. We're headed to Dragonstone."_

 _He had never heard of the place, but all he could do was sit and wait._

He felt the slight change in the ship's direction and looked out and saw them approaching the shore.

"We have arrived", said the Red Woman.

He stared at the looming dark structure atop a steep hill. He saw and heard the cries of the multiple seagulls as they flew past and around what he assumed was the castle of Dragonstone. It's appearance was far from that of the Red Keep, it somehow felt like a bad omen. He shook off the thought as he finally felt solid ground under his feet. He spotted multiple steps leading up to the castle, and followed the Red Woman's lead. The steps seemed endless and the higher they got, the stronger and colder the winds were. He looked down and saw the distant shoreline, with waves rolling and receding, and the jagged stones at the bottom. He wondered if what lay below him was more frightening than what lays ahead. He shuddered at the thought and kept climbing the steps.

Finally, they reached the end and was led through the gates of the castle. He was led through winding hallways made of stone and cold to the touch. It somehow felt unforgiving. Within these walls he could barely hear the sounds of the outside. They stopped for a second in front of a door, the Red Woman led the way and walked in without knocking. Inside he saw a room with a giant table in the middle, there were piles of parchment, and figurines that looked like ships and lions arranged in a definite way. He turned his attention to the person inside the room, it was a man. He appeared fit and his posture was rigid. He would have looked young beneath the wrinkles that graced his face and the stub of a beard forming on his face. He tried to read the expression on his face, but there were no emotions showing.

 _This is probably Stannis Baratheon, but why would he need me here?_ , he thought but dared not ask.

Gendry was surprised when the manwalked straight for him and grabbed his face in one hand. His uncle turned his face from side to side, examining every detail.

He heard his uncle's deep voice say, "Half Robert, half lowborn", like a diagnosis of some sort.

He was unsure of how to respond but thankfully the Red Woman talked and he was dismissed promptly with her orders. As he was exiting the room, the red woman half-whispered into his ear "I'll come visit you soon." _Maybe she'll tell me why i'm needed here later_ , he thought as he followed again down more hallways until they arrived at what he assumed is his chambers. The door opened and the light from a fire creeped out and he could barely believe his eyes. Inside was a bedroom larger than he had ever seen. The room was larger than any inn's, there was a nearby hearth for a bed was large and clean. He hesitated before nearing it, unsure if it was really his. He touched the beddings and dared to sit, and he felt it was so soft. He wondered if all highborns had rooms like these, and if they knew how lucky they were.

His musings were interrupted when two maids later entered his room informing him a bath was ready, and they placed new clothes atop his bed. They bowed out and left him, but he couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief.

He stepped into the bath and relaxed for what was probably the first time of his life. The feeling of the hot water was relaxing and he had never felt so clean before.

He began to think back to their conversation on the ship. He was the bastard of the former King, the King's blood ran through him. The idea still felt strange in his mind.

He remembered seeing the king once, he was as wide as he was loud, though of course he would never say that out loud.

 _But, why would those red cloaks be looking for him?_

He's just a bastard, the King had never acknowledged him so he still had no last name.

The questions continued to flip over and over inside his head but no answers were in sight.

Although, it was strange, that two people who claimed to be the Hand of the King, would talk to him. He tried to think back to their conversations but it wasn't long and wasn't much.

He continued to churn the ideas around, feeling so close to grasping the answer but never quite getting there. When he brought his senses back to the present, he noticed that the bath was no longer warm. He took that as a sign that he had bathed for too long. He dried off and put on the clothes they had given him. The feeling of a good bath and warm clean clothes lulled his wariness away. He remembered the Red Woman saying she would visit soon, so he decided to stand by the fire for now to wait.

He didn't have to wait too long, until the red woman came.

He heard her footsteps approaching and then her voice when she said "have you ever seen anything like it?".

He admittedly told her "I've never seen anything like any of this. Not in my life." He still felt like he didn't belong here, in these extravagant quarters. They may be his, but it wasn't really.

The red woman brought up her past again. He enjoyed talking to someone with a familiar background, someone who understood him. She brought up her memory of the questionable soup of her childhood. He laughingly recalled the memory of those damned bowls of brown.

He still stood by the fire as she moved towards the bottle of liquor on the table, she poured the red liquid into a glass and offered it to him.

The caution that started to escape him, slid back into him with the offer. He started to feel wary once again, and she sensed it, "You think i'm trying to poison you?" she asked.

He felt it inappropriate to say yes outright, so he opted for silence.

She then drank from the wine she poured, he waited awhile and nothing happened, so he reached out to receive the glass of wine. He took a sip of the red liquid, unsure of what to expect, it tasted a bit sour but sweet and warm as it traveled down his throat. It had a fruity flavor, though he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that it was good. "That's really good", he said and he meant it.

She urged him to drink more, but a voice deep in his head told him, _Don't._

"You still don't trust think this is all a mistake and that you'll have to pay somehow for every bite you take," she said. It was the truth. Something felt off, being treated so well felt wrong.

"That thought had crossed my mind, yeah", he admitted.

"There are no mistakes. Not for us," she said, as she felt out to touch his face.

"I'm a mistake. I'm only here because my father grabbed my mother instead of the girl next to her in the tavern," he said, partly to remind himself of the fact. The Red Woman went on about the Lord of Light and his plan. As far as he knew, his Gods never told him of their plans. It's strange, then he suddenly became aware of how close she was now to him. He felt the warmth of her breath, and her voice seemed even more enchanting in the dimly lit room. He felt the slightest touch of her lips as they grazed by his cheek. And now, her hands undoing the clothes he had on and those damn soft lips were on him as he felt the chill from his shirt coming off.

"This doesn't seem very religious," he said. He didn't know what to do, his senses seemed a bit fogged, and it took everything out of him to stay standing. He felt a warmness creeping in his stomach, settling down South. It felt good, he never had a woman undress him, he felt the coolness of her skin touch his and he shivered. Her hands were soft and the way she was touching him teasingly made all sense fly out of his head.

He couldn't understand what she was saying, though he tried. It took great effort to try to grasp the words out of her lips, when all he could do was look into her eyes. Her hands left his body and went to her clothes, and then he saw her unrobe before him. He had never lain with another woman before, and the sight of her naked, seemingly glowing by the candlelight distracted him. Yet, he dared not touch her without her permission, though he wanted to.

"-swallow the dawn-stop it—you and I-inside you-with me", he could only hear snippets of what she said.

His mind went blank and he let the red woman take his hand and lead him to the bed. Before any sense could sneak in, he found themselves kissing. Her lips were soft and plump, and he felt her hands again on his body. He hesitated, he didn't know what to do, so he decided to hold her hips as he was leaned down on the bed. He could feel himself erect, and her hand grazed over it while undoing his pants.

He closed his eyes and felt her straddle him, and then he felt it. He was inside her, tight and wet, he automatically moved his hips wanting more, to go deeper and faster. He closed his eyes and moaned, he never knew it would feel so good to be inside a woman. He moved faster and faster, against the sweet tightness, and he couldn't take it anymore as he felt his release.

He felt for her body as she rode him, finally having the courage to touch her breasts and feel her soft skin. He felt her bringing his hands up and securing it to the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, wondering. "You have to trust me," she said, as she kissed his lips, and kissed a path down, and down, then stopped. He felt his feet being bound and opened his eyes.

Suddenly aware, that something wasn't right.

Her back was turned and he saw she held a box in her hand. Then he caught the glimpse of something black, and all arousal he had disappeared in a flash as fear took over him.

"Get it away, get it off me," he felt himself panic.

He saw her, without hesitation, place the leech on his chest. He felt helpless, bound and nearly naked, and feared for his life. The pain of the leech's bite was sharp, he continued to try his best to struggle but realized it was no good.

"Don't fight, don't fight. They won't take much," she said nonchalantly.

 _They_ , he thought, _there's more_. He saw her add another leech to his body.

"Why are you doing this?" , he thought he at least deserved to know.

"I told you there's power in the blood of kings. And you have so much blood," she said matter of factly. There was no feeling in her eyes, no shame at all. _They wanted my blood, and my blood alone,_ he thought.

He then saw her about to place another leech but further South then he would want.

"No, no, no, no! Not there. Not there!", he screamed, because his voice is all he could control. He knew his words would all be in vain, as he felt a great amount of pain, as the leech latched onto his penis. All memory of the pleasure he had minutes ago were gone.

He heard the door open, but didn't see who came in at first. The pain was all he could concentrate on.

"You can blame Ser Davos. He didn't believe in the power of king's blood. He wanted a demonstration."

 _Ser Davos?_ , he thought, the name didn't seem familiar to him.

He then looked to the door and saw two figures, both male, one was his uncle and the other was older and plumper. Both of them though had grave expressions on their faces.

"Please. Please, Your Grace. My lord!", he begged. But all the begging fell on deaf ears. Mercy was all he wanted. He should have known the moment he arrived here that mercy is something he wouldn't get.

He watched as the Red Woman walked back to him, a pang of fear spread throughout his body.

 _What if more leeches would be placed?_ Then he saw her pluck of the leeches one by one, and hissed at the pain. The leeches didn't want to leave his body willingly, grasping onto his skin as anchor. He was blinded by the pain from the last leech.

He turned his head and saw the Red Woman and Stannis Baratheon by the fire. Each leech was offered to his uncle, and one by one they were thrown in the fire, each paired with a name they called usurpers.

He realized in shame his initial thought upon being here was right, _of course it was too good to be true._

He was tired and ashamed. He didn't know who or how but his hands and feet were unbound, his shirt was placed back on and faintly remember the Red Woman saying, "take him to the dungeons."

As he sat down on the cold floor of the dungeon with the feel of the steel bars against his back, he thought to himself, _this is where I have always belonged. This is all my life is worth, forever some highlord's prisoner._ He let the darkness settle in to his very bones, inviting sleep to come, it would be a welcome escape from his thoughts of his life and what was sure to be his demise in this cold unforgiving place.

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 ** _I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far. I promise that very soon I'll row away from the storyline of the series, almost there. Haha, row away? get it? No? You'll see. ;) I apologize to anyone who was looking for any romance right away, I'll get there slowly. :)_**

 ** _Anyways, if you've reached this far, i hope you stop by and leave a comment or review :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

He awoke to the cold sensation of the floor below him. He could hear the seagulls outside and the sounds of waves crashing against the shore. He didn't know if it was daytime or nighttime, there were no windows to feel the heat of the sun or see the moon rising. It was maddening he found to be left alone with his thoughts.

Then, the sound of footsteps brought him back to reality. The silhouetted figure was thankfully male, and a bit more plump and short.

 _The one they called Ser Davos,_ he thought.

Then the figure spoke, "How are you keeping?"

 _Angry, helpless, ashamed, stuck in a dungeon waiting to be killed for my blood_ , he thought, but all he could say was "Great. Never better."

"It was just a bit of blood," Ser Davos said consolingly. But it wasn't just the leeches that bothered him truly. _I should have known better_. All his thoughts brimmed into words, and without thinking he vented them out loud.

"I should have known. Every time a highborn asks my name, it's trouble. We're not really people to you, are we? Just a million different ways to get what you want."

"I'm not a highborn," Ser Davos replied.

"She called you Ser. I heard it," _at that room where I was tied up and leeches were sucking my blood._

"A recent state of affairs. I was born in Flea Bottom just like you." _Ah, that sounds familiar,_ he thought. He remembered how the Red Woman sympathized with him when she told him that she was born a slave.

"Sure, you 're my 're here to help," he said sarcastically. His guard was up once again. _More and more lies_ , he thought.

"I lived below the Street of Flour."

"How far below? How close to the Red Keep were you?", he asked testingly. _He might know the names of the street, but no highborn could know everything._

"The shit that poured from their privy pipes flowed down the side of Aegon's Hill along Tanner's Row and right in front of my front door – on"

"-Gin Alley," they both said in unison.

Gendry wondered, _maybe he speaks the truth for once but should I really believe in him?_

Ser Davos went on to point out that the Street of Steel where he came from is nothing compared to Gin Alley. In that point he was right, he never dared go that deep down where the people were shittier than the shit from the pipes.

"And here we are now, two boys from Flea Bottom in the castle of a king."

"Yeah, we've come a long way." he replied. _Two boys from Flea Bottom, on different sides of the dungeon cell_.

"We're all the same, really," Ser Davos said. The words felt unconvincing, incongruent with the reality he's known. _Different food, different beds, different wars that we're fighting- they fight for power and a throne, while I just fight to live,_ he thought, _how can it possible be the same?_

"She went to great pains to point that out to me," he replied, each word dripping with contempt.

"If you mistrust fancy people so much, why were you in such a hurry to trust her?" Ser Davos replied, forcing him to again remember the events of that shameful night.

"You're me. Never been with a woman. Never talked to a woman- _well not really,_ he thought- And then she comes at you- big words, no would you have done?" After all, I'm still a man that has never known a woman. Ser Davos smiled the slightest of smile, and he felt a sense of understanding.

Gendry went on to change the subject, "So how'd you become a lord?"

"That's a long story," Ser Davos replied.

"Better not, then. I'm a bit busy," he said while looking around at his dungeon cell, and with a slight smile on his lips. He saw Ser Davos then, give in and divulge the short version of the long story. He learned of Ser Davos' reasons for taking up the lordship offered him. Though he couldn't relate, since his father never did anything for him, his birth father, the King never, even legitimized him. _The only thing he's given me is a price for my blood,_ he thought. But he appreciated and respected the man before him. _He's a father who truly loves his sons, he's probably not all bad._

"Does he?", he asked, if his son is really better off away from Gin Alley, with his father and his lordship.

"He's dead." Ser Davos replied, his words hardened by emotion.

"How'd he die?", he wanted to know.

As Ser Davos readied to sit up and leave the dungeon, Gendry could feel the pain emanating from him on the topic of his son but the curiousity came over him.

"Following me." Ser Davos said with pain in his voice and something else. Gendry thought as he heard the sound of Ser Davos' footsteps getting further and further away, _ah pain and regret, even with a lordship he was still used, his son too._

And then he was left again to his own thoughts.

He went back to his memory of Flea Bottom, things were simpler when all that was expected of him was to mend and make armor. His days were simple and boring, but it was better that way. All the adventures he'd been on could just end up killing him. He wondered if death is all that was left, and how many days it would be until death came knocking on his door.

Hours or days passed by, he couldn't really tell, until he heard the sound of rushed footsteps. He saw the light of a torch, and the face that was illuminated belonged to Ser Davos. He saw Ser Davos hurriedly unlocking his cage, then the door to his cell was open.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not understanding what was going on.

"You're leaving.", Ser Davos said, seemingly like a command. He noticed him looking wary, watching out for someone who might have followed him. He wanted to believe in Ser Davos, but still hesitated.

"Is this some kind of trick?" he asked, caution trumping over the temptation of leaving this dark and cold cell.

"Yes, but not on you" Ser Davos replied. He looked at this man from Gin Alley one last time before he decided to stand up and step out of his cell. _This may be a mistake, another trap as far as I know, but I have to try as long as death hasn't arrived yet._

He followed Ser Davos like a moth to a flame, as they left the dungeons and passed by more winding hallways with just the sound of their footsteps echoing around the stone cold walls. Then he saw a glimpse of a cool blue light coming from ahead, and he smelled the sea. _Seven hells, I'm really out_ , he thought. He looked around, and there was no red cloak in sight, he felt a sense of relief at that. He followed Ser Davos as he approached a small rowboat.

"Aim for that star. Don't stop," Ser Davos said as he moved the rowboat a bit into the shore. He took off the bag he had slung around his shoulder and threw it into the boat. "There's bread and water," he said nodding to the bag. "Go slow with it," he advised.

Everything was happening so quickly that Gendry felt the darkness of the dungeons might have dulled his senses.

Ser Davos went on and rushedly told him more advice. "If you finish it off, no matter how thirsty you get, don't drink seawater."

Gendry thought, he may be stupid but at least he knew that much. "I know not to drink seawater," he said, his first words since they got to the shore.

"Row for a full day and night and you'll reach Rook's Rest. You'll want to stop there. Don't. She'll find you," Ser Davos said. They both knew the "she" he was referring to. Truthfully, this was the moment he realized that this wasn't a trick. He's really escaping.

"Where should I go?", he asked. He had no idea where he was, or where the sea leads. He felt a bit of fear and vulnerability seep into him at that moment.

"You must keep the coast on your left side until you reach King's Landing." _King's Landing?_ , he thought, _of all the places why there?_ He hesitated for a moment.

"The gold cloaks are looking for me." He said, thinking _I can't possibly be safe there_.

"They were looking for me for 20 years. Do they know your face?" Ser Davos asked.

"No." He admitted.

He thought back to the Red Cloaks asking after his name, even though he was standing in front of them, they never realized that he was the one they were looking for.

"I'd worry more about the Red Woman." Ser Davos said, and Gendry realized he was right. The Red Woman already knows what he looks like thanks to the Brotherhood that sold him to her.

He got into the boat facing ahead to the sea.

"The other way." He heard Ser Davos say, and he felt a bit of shame for having to be corrected like a fool. His heart was pounding in his chest, partly out of fear. He stood up and sat facing the shore, feeling more and more unsure if he could really do this.

"You ever been in a boat before?"

"No." he replied.

"You know how to swim?"

"No." he replied again. He felt so helpless he wanted to laugh at himself. Gendry felt the fear of this venture he was on and realized his predicament of only having to rely on himself in the vast sea, which admittedly isn't much. _If I fall and drown-_ , he thought, but before he could complete the thought Ser Davos' voice interrupted.

"Don't fall out." Ser Davos said, it's probably the only advice he could think of after his revelations. Gendry felt a lump form in his throat, and did his best to push it down. He made sure his food rations were secure by his feet, then grabbed the wooden oars. He hesitated at first.

"Go on," Ser Davos urged. He looked at the man from Gin Alley, the blessed and cursed man with a Lordship, and asked him just one more question.

"Why are you doing this?"

Ser Davos replied, "Because it's right, and because I'm a slow learner." _I guess not all Lords are bad_ , he thought. Then he tried to row himself, fumbling a bit until he got a good grip on the oars. As he felt himself move forward bit by bit, he looked at Ser Davos once again and felt thankful for this chance to live another day. He found his tempo and kept on rowing bit by bit, and he heard Ser Davos say, "When you get to Flea Bottom, have a bowl of brown for me."

He smiled at the thought and watched as his savior's figure slowly disappeared along with the coastline. He watched the castle of Dragonstone slowly fade away.

He thought back to the nights in Harrenhall and with the Brotherhood, when he overheard his highborn friend Arya reciting a list of names before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. She had a list of names to kill, names of people that have wronged her. As much as he wanted to seek his own vengeance, he realized that just isn't him. He then realized, now he has a list of people who has saved him, who he owes his life to. Two names came to mind, _Arya Stark and Ser Davos_.

 _If the gods allow me to get to King's Landing, I have 2 debts to repay,_ he thought.

And so he rowed, enveloped by the blue sky and sea, reciting over and over two names in his head to inspire him to live.

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 _ **Yay! So now we row away from the TV series for a bit. Sorry I skipped a day of posting, life got in the way of my updating this story. I'm excited to continue his story offscreen, I hope you are as well. :) I love Ser Davos so much, he's one of the characters I trust the most. I love that he's a chaotic good character. It's a bit difficult to really gauge Gendry since we only know him through other character's eyes, but hopefully my understanding of him is good enough for y'all. Thank you for reaching up to this point. :) There's more to come, I promise. One thing I will tell you, is that Gendry won't be getting to King's Landing just yet. There is no smooth sailing in a little rowboat on the Narrow Sea. ;)  
**_


	5. Chapter 5

Gendry felt himself doze off and woke with a jolt. He steadied the boat, fearing of tilting it off balance. He looked around, - blue, blue, coast!. The coast was on his right.

" _You must keep the coast on your left side until you reach King's Landing,"_ He remembered what Ser Davos said to him and adjusted the boat's position to keep the coast on his left.

Gendry had been rowing a whole day and most of the night now since he left Dragonstone. He looked to the sky and saw a blanket of stars. The cold brought by the sea made him wish he had a cloak to warm his body. The waves were larger now, making it harder to row and keep the boat balanced. He pushed the thought of an imminent death by drowning to the back of his head. He decided to concentrate on living for the moment.

Despite the ache in his shoulders and arms, the thirst in his mouth, and hunger in his stomach, he pushed himself to keep on rowing. He had a piece of bread and a sip of water before he dozed off, he reminded himself. Though his body complained of wanting more, it would have to do for now.

He kept on rowing until he saw the lightening colors of the sky - the dark blue turning to light blue eventually fading into a pale pink. He saw the hint of light from the sun about to rise. He looked to his left and saw the coast once again. He noticed parts of the land had no grass, no plants in sight, nothing but a damaged castle east of the ruins.

 _Rook's rest_ , he thought to himself.

He could faintly hear the voices of men coming from the port. He was tempted to stop there and look for more food. But he shook his head and kept on rowing. He remembered Ser Davos and his words of warning. _Stopping for a rest may lead me to being captured again_ , he thought.

He recalled the image of Dragonstone and imagined what the reaction of Lord Stannis and the Red Woman might have been on learning his escape. He shuddered at the thought, and gripped the wooden oars in his hands tightly. His blistered hands complained of the pain, but he paid them no mind. He positioned the oars and pulled back on the water with great effort and kept moving forward. Time passed slowly and quickly at the same time. He found that concentrating on syncing his breathing with every stroke against the water helped calm him and distract him.

The sun was now high up in the sky. _Noon time_ , he thought to himself. He stopped rowing for a while and took another bite out of his bread and drank some water from the flagon. He peered into his bag of food rations and thankfully he still had plenty left. He shook the flagon of water, and he wish he had more, as irrational as it may seem. He knows he should be thankful for even being given food and water, but the heat from the sun squashed his gratefulness. His immense thirst and fatigue was beginning to take a toll on him, he could feel it. His skin felt burned from the lack of shade to escape the sun's rays. His muscles were sore, though he may be strong even he had his limits. He feared he was nearing his limit too fast, while his destination remained too far. _I can't believe I actually miss the days of walking on the road endlessly heading for the Wall_ , he thought to himself. He missed a lot of things, but food and solid ground were on the top of his list right now.

He looked at the blue sea surrounding him. At first, he actually enjoyed being out in the sea, the waters were calm in the morning and he was glad to be out of the dark cold dungeon. But then he came to realize how temperamental the sea can be. It started calm, but it quickly changed with the waves getting bigger and stronger. Those were the times where his fear overcame his need for sleep. His body wouldn't allow him sleep as long as the threat of drowning was imminent. Those turbulent waters lasted the longest, or maybe it just felt like it did. He looked down at the clear blue water, he dipped a few fingers into it, and later submerged his whole hand. The cool water on his skin felt good, and without thinking he cupped some water into the palm of his hand. He felt a sudden urge to drink the water. The water neared his mouth - closer and closer - he could smell the salt of the seawater, before he came back to his senses. _I'm a bigger fool than I gave myself credit for,_ he thought while shaking his head to recover his senses and returning the water in his palm to the sea. _Drinking sea water, ha, Seven Hells, I must be going crazy._

He gripped the oars again, grounding himself to the present. _I need to keep on rowing, I might find some shade ahead_ , he thought. So he rowed and rowed and rowed. Alas, there was no shade in sight. He felt himself growing weaker with each row, and feared for his arms falling from his shoulders. His entire body ached from the unending rowing, and his bum grew numb from sitting so long on a wooden seat. The pain and heat was overwhelming his senses now, and his fatigue and lack of sleep wasn't helping one bit.

He looked ahead and saw a blurry image of an island with towering trees. He could have sworn that the coast was to his left, he turned his head to the left and saw it. He blinked, shook his head, but there it still remained, the image of an island. He was overcome with a sudden urge to seek solid ground again. He rowed now aiming for the island.

Forward and forward, with more and more urgency, but the island never got any closer.

He tried and tried, rowing more and harder, he felt drops of sea water splash against his face with every desperate pull of the oars to reach the island. Yet, he never reached it.

 _Where's the coast?_ , a voice said in his head.

 _It's right here on my left_ , he thought, as he looked to the left. But there was no coast on his left.

Panic and fear starting to course through his body. He looked ahead and the island he saw was gone.

He looked to the right, left, behind, right, then left again. He somehow found himself surrounded by a foggy haze. He thought back, tried to retrace what he did.

 _I was just moving forward, there's no way I could have strayed too far,_ he thought. But his fear refused to let him move.

 _What if I end up rowing back to Dragonstone looking for the coast? What if I end up on Rook's rest and see the Red Woman waiting for me? But if I stay here, the waves will get stronger later, the boat would rock, eventually it'll flip over..what if I doze off.._ his thoughts were endless, overruled by panic.

 _Stupid Bull_ , he heard a female voice say.

"I'm not stup-" he said out loud then stopped suddenly at the vision before him.

A familiar brown haired highborn girl was in front of him. Her hair was still cut crudely to make her look like a boy. She was dressed in the same dirty rags he last saw her in. Her skin seemed much paler though, almost translucent.

 _"Arya",_ he breathed, not believing his eyes or ears.

 _Seven Hells, am I dead?_ he thought.

 _You're not dead, stupid_ , said Arya.

"Then-how? Why? What? Are you-dead?" he sputtered helplessly, with the last few words catching in his throat. His voice was scratchy from the lack of water and lack of use. _Seven Hells, she read my mind_ , he thought.

 _Don't kill me off, Stupid!_ she said. Then she sighed and said _Told_ _you so, you should have came with me to Riverrun, but no,_ she said while rolling her eyes. _You're lost dimwit, and now you're imagining me._

Here he was in the middle of a foggy haze, imagining his closest friend chastising him.

He started laughing at himself right then. Even in his imagination, he was picked on by this little girl.

"I'm doomed aren't I? If I've reached the point of imagining you being here, sitting, and talking to me." He said out loud, vaguely aware that he's talking to no one, but still he missed having someone to talk to- imaginary or real, it didn't really matter that much to him right now.

She looked at him with those piercing grey eyes and smirked. _You're only as mad as you think your self to be_ , she said.

She then turned and pointed to the left. _Row going there until you see the coast, don't stop and change direction for any islands you may or may not have seen,_ she said knowingly.

He stared and wondered, _what if this was another trick of his mind? What if he ended up being even more lost? What if he ended up back in Dragonstone?_

He hesitated.

 _Go on, row_ , she urged. _Don't get too close to the coast, watch out for the big pointy rocks.  
_

He looked at her and smiled. _I must be going mad for following her orders even now_.

"Yes, milady." he said teasingly, like how he used to say it before.

He saw her grey eyes glare and then felt the rock of the boat.

And then she was gone. Even if imaginary, he wished she could have stayed a bit longer. He felt even more lonely after seeing her face. He held out his hand, touching where he saw her sitting, as if to check that she really isn't there. There was nothing now but a damp wooden seat. He missed her, he realized, _she's surely in Riverrun by now, days and days away._ A small inkling, a suggestion or an idea, he wasn't sure. For some reason or another though, he thought, _"we'll meet again someday, I'm sure."_

Gendry picked up his oars again and rowed to the left, as his imaginary friend said. _If I end up in danger, I'll deal with it when it comes,_ he thought.

So he rowed, with a clearer mind than before, and his fear hidden away. Oddly, his pain became more bearable and, for now, his hunger was suppressed. He rowed and rowed, pushing more and more sea behind him.

Then he saw it.

 _Seven hells, it's the f-ing coast._

He laughed out loud like a crazy man, and thanked the gods. If a non-imaginary person were there, they'd think he found some gold.

He looked around now and realized that the fog has cleared and the sun was gone. A large round moon taking the place of where the sun was, last he noticed. He looked up and saw the blanket of stars and he felt thankful and at peace.

 _I'm still alive._

He smiled, as he tore off another piece of bread and savored it in his mouth. Even the stale bread couldn't dampen his mood. He let the first smile he had in a while linger on his face a bit longer.

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 _ **I had a bit of difficulty because describing someone rowing is quite boring. I apologize for the shorter chapter, but don't worry, I'm not going to write about rowing for the next few chapters. Next chapter, Gendry lands on solid ground. ;) I hope you like this story so far, please leave a review if you do. Even if you don't leave a review and i'll take your criticism to improve. :) See y'all next chapter. :D**_


	6. Chapter 6

The gentle rocking of the waves aroused the lone man sleeping in his rowboat. Gendry had somehow found it in himself to close and rest his eyes for a few minutes. He realized that he would rather not have a repeat of what had happened before.

He opened his eyes, and stared at the pale blue sky.

 _It's pre-dawn_ , he thought, and was thankful that he didn't doze off for too long.

He checked for the bag of food rations and the flagon of water, noting how light they both felt now in his hand. He did his best to ration, but with no idea on how long he'd have to row, to say it was a challenge was a definite understatement. He took a bite of bread anyways and drank a sip of water. He groaned audibly as he adjusted his body's position to sit down properly to row. He took the oars below the wooden planks of his boat and forced his muscles to move.

Gendry had always prided himself on his strength, but now his very pride is failing him. Every stroke now weaker, and his pace comparably slower than the day before.

He felt the waves rock his boat back and forth – back and forth-

 _back AND forth?,_ he thought, _something's not right._ He may not be an experienced sailor but with the time he'd spent on the sea, temperamental bitch it may be, the waves usually led to one direction at a time. _Especially this early in the morning_.

He looked at the water and noticed small ripples of waves coming from the wrong direction with white bubbles in their midst. Then he squinted into the distance and saw giant ships, similar to the ones that carried goods, all heading in one direction. The ships were like those he had seen before when he wandered by the port in King's Landing.

A sliver of hope arose inside him.

 _Have I finally made it back to King's Landing?_ , he dared hope that he did.

He decided then to follow these ships to the port they were headed in. It was easy to blend in when you're in a rowboat and surrounded by multiple ships of a large magnitude. The excitement and hope overcame him, he rowed with immense effort towards awaiting land.

He then saw the coastline ahead, _it's the port at last_ , he thought to himself.

As he neared, he expected to see the towering Red Keep, but it wasn't there.

He looked to his left, right, beyond the leige of ships arriving.

There was **no** Red Keep.

His hope deflated and his heart sank, he wasn't in King's Landing just yet.

In the Red Keep's stead, he saw a large square keep with towers shaped like drums. The walls seemed to be shimmering in the pale light from the morning sun.

 _It's not King's Landing, but with the size of the port there's bound to be a market for food, or a place to work_ , he thought to himself.

Honestly, the sea has not been kind to him and he was hesitant of continuing for an unforeseeable days alone in the unforgiving sea.

He looked at the port again, then back to his food rations, then back to the port again.

 _It's easier to hide behind these large ships and in a town with possibly thousands of people,_ he convinced himself.

He then recalled the voice of Ser Davos telling him to row until King's Landing.

 ***** gurgle gurgle*

He felt his stomach rumbling. He looked at his blistered hands, filled with water and blood.

 _How much longer could I possibly row? What of the sea's condition? I'm no sailor. The land is better for me to travel for sure. But..it's easier to capture a man on land than in the sea...But it's the goddamn sea._ He feared he'd imagine things again, and his imaginary friend wouldn't be there to help him that time as well.

He weighed the options in his head, mulling over what to do.

In the end, he decided what to do.

He took a deep breath and rowed towards the port, apologizing to Ser Davos in his mind for not heeding all his advice the whole journey through.

He followed closely behind the ship to his right, it was the closest one to the coast, ensuring he was partly in the shadows. Slowly, he got closer and closer, that he could see the port now. He was engrossed with the port ahead of him, he didn't notice the large pointed rocks by the coast.

He was knocked to the right from the impact and held on for dear life to the boat.

He looked to his left, and to his dismay he saw part of the boat hugging the pointed rock with shards of broken wooden planks pointing outwards.

 _I guess, now I have no other option but to travel by land._

He took the bag with his remaining food rations and slung it over his shoulder. He stood up and scanned for the best place he could find for footing.

The coast leading up to the port was made up of rocky highlands. He looked to the port, though appearing nearby, he knew the water could be deep and didn't want to risk testing it. The rocks were full of erosions and were slippery to touch. His blistered hands complained of the work imposed on them. He was tired and his muscles sore, but his awareness was intact.

 _If I slip, I die. Not today. Not today,_ he thought.

His legs were weak from disuse but at least they weren't tired. He concentrated on every step with somewhere to hold onto nearby.

 _If my legs fail, my hands can save me; if my hands fail, my legs can save me_ , he repeated to himself over and over again.

Slowly, he reached out one foot to step and one hand to grab. He held on like his life depended on it, which it did.

Step, grab, step, grab, step, grab.

He found his own tempo and eventually moved faster and faster. He saw the port getting closer and closer, and his heart fluttered in anticipation.

 _Almost there_ , he thought. _Two more steps to go._

He lifted his leg placing it in a crevice he spotted, but the spot was more slippery than it seemed. The shadows from the highlands tricked his mind into thinking it was a safe step.

His foot slipped losing his footing. His instinct urged him to grab on tightly to the rock he still held onto as he felt his knee scrape against a jagged rock. He stood himself back up and urged himself to concentrate. He dared not look at his leg for now but instead fought through the pain.

With more caution he continued ahead, his mind urging every muscle in his body to hang on.

Then, finally, he took that step onto solid ground. He sighed with relief and let his knees give in. He hissed at the pain as he remembered his injury on his right knee, and inwardly laughed at himself for forgetting.

 _Seven Hells, I made it_ , he thought as he looked back to the rocky highlands he traversed. He hoped he never had to do something like that again. He looked at his hands which were shaking, and his knees felt wobbly. He looked for a place to rest for a while, especially since he felt his body was still rocking as if he remained on his little boat. _Damn it, I deserve a fucking rest_ , he convinced himself. He knew if he pushed himself, his exhaustion would catch up to him in the most unlikely places.

He limped to a shaded spot in the port, in the very corner, away from people's eyes. He checked the area in case more pointy rocks were hiding in the shadows, then he allowed his back to lean against the stone cold wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His legs outstretched in front of him and his back was fully supported. Gendry never loved the ground as much as he did right now. He slid off his bag of rations from his shoulder and opened it. He thought of saving some of his food rations for later just in case he couldn't find a place to work for food, but that was before the rocky road he ventured on. He devoured all the remaining pieces of bread and gulped down some water. He was far from full, but his body felt better after finally eating.

He heard multiple voices coming from the port, people's footsteps running around unloading their cargo. If he wasn't aware of them, he would cry or laugh, or maybe do both at the same time out of relief. _This may not be King's Landing, but land is land_.

He felt thankful for the shade he found finally shielding his skin from the sun. The sun now was halfway into the sky, shining brightly. Though he came to hate it during his travel on the sea, he appreciated its beauty.

He finally built up his courage to look at his injuries. First, he looked at his hands, the blisters had multiplied. Some were old and on their way to healing, and some were new filled with blood and water. He tried closing his hand, though painful, he was relieved his grip was still good. _With my hands like this, could I still mend armor?_ he thought, and he hoped he could find a way around it. Blacksmithing is his trade, it's the only thing he knows, without it he feared his ability to survive. Second, he braced himself to look at his right knee. He hoped the pain was out of proportion to the injury. He looked at his right knee, and was glad it wasn't actively bleeding. _So far, so good,_ he thought. He then tore off a piece of cloth from his shirt, and with the flagon of water he had he poured the water over his wound to clean it. He wiped the blood off, and looked at the wound beneath. He was relieved to see no bone exposed, and thankfully he wouldn't need a needle for it.

 _But now what?_ he thought.

There were plenty of ships here, maybe he could ask for passage to King's Landing. He'd feel safer hiding on a ship than traveling alone on foot by land. He looked at his empty bag of food rations, and felt for his empty pockets. He had nothing to pay with, there was no profit to be earned for them to assure his safe passage. Though he knew it would be safer, the sensation of a rocking boat still wracked through his body. The sea was not his friend, and the idea of talking to all the people here in the port would make him stand out too much. He didn't trust these pirates and traders much. The people who wanted him all had money, the chances of being sold off seemed highest at the hands of those who hunted for gold at any chance.

 _Land it is then._

He watched the path the cargo from the different ships took and decided to follow them. He rested enough, the sun was now high in the sky. He knew he couldn't stay sitting in a corner of the port all day. He stood up, his muscles stiff and sore, but better compared to before. He cautiously added more weight to his right leg, testing how much it could handle. He picked up the now empty bag that used to contain his food, and checked on his flagon. He'll look for a source of water and the bag could be handy later on.

With a slight limp, he followed the path leading into the cobblestone streets of the town.

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 **Hi! It's me, haha. Can you guess what town Gendry is in now? I did my best to research on the area and I hoped you enjoy the new terrain. There's more to come in the next chapters. I have many plans for him *insert evil laugh*. Thank you for reaching this far in the story, I hope y'all enjoyed it. See you next chapter! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

As Gendry followed the path from the port to the main town, he spotted a single wooden sign by the sea.

" _ **Here lie the wolves"**_

As he read the words, a chill spread through his spine. A grave marked with only a sign located far from the town, no names, or anything. _It feels more like a warning than a grave for the dead,_ he thought as the chill made him shudder at the thought. If Gendry was a religious man, he may have prayed for their souls, but he wasn't. He stared out at the sea instead, and noticed that instead of blue all he saw was grey-green.

He looked back to the grave and wondered, _what exactly happened here?_

He wandered back to the beaten path, overcome with a flurry of cargo boxes and laborers. He followed them until they arrived in what appeared to be a market square. The stalls were all brightly colored, with busy stall keepers preparing their goods for show. He strolled through the numerous stalls, faintly hearing the beckoning of the merchants to their stalls as he passed. There was multiple varieties of food and liquor, but most of the stalls he passed oddly contained armor and weapons.

Gendry approached one merchant with a stall full of armor and weapons. The merchant looked him up and down, taking in his appearance. He wondered what people thought when he saw him, he wondered now what he looked like. _Not like a paying customer most likely_ , he thought as he surveyed the guarded expression of the merchant. He felt the eyes of the merchant on him, watching every move he made, oddly enough it reminded him of Flea Bottom.

"See anything you like?", the merchant said. The merchant was young looking, with an accent to his voice but suspicion laced in every word. His skin was tan probably from being under the sun day in and day out.

"Where'd all these weapons and armor come from?", he asked. _Maybe he got it from a blacksmith nearby,_ he dared hope.

He saw the merchant give him an odd look. Before Gendry could try to discern it, the merchant spoke.

"You're not from around here are ya? You look like the rest of the smallfolk around here, but you don't know much you must be blind. Why don't you take a closer look? Tell me what you see"

Gendry forced himself to remain calm on the outside, though his pulse quickened and he was unsure if he was still breathing. He looked to the merchant untrusting, but did as he bided anyways. He looked closely at the swords first. From afar, it was glistening like new, but up close the swords' edges were blunted and chipped. He looked at the different armor now, all dented.

"They're used." _Are all the weapons and armor in this market used?,_ he wondered, then he thought back to the grave he saw earlier and realization dawned on him on what it means.

"Aye, they are. Never heard of the Battle at Duskendale, when you're standing in Duskendale, what kinda fellow are you? Been living under a rock?"

 _Well under a castle more like_ , he thought. _So I'm in Duskendale._

He thought of what lie to tell this man, but Gendry was never good at lying. So he settled on the truth, the very minimum he could tell.

"I'm nothing but a lowborn from Flea Bottom, a whore's son. Not much learning where we come from."

The merchant relaxed a bit, realizing the truth in his words and that he won't make money from him.

"Flea Bottom from King's Landing, hm, explains much about ya. You trying to start a new life or something? No matter, at least know a bit of where you are. Here was where the North scums fell against the Lannisters. Nothing but downhill for those Northern folks, dumb scums."

Before Gendry could talk, the merchant interrupted.

"Now, you don't seem like someone who can buy anything. I've shown you enough kindness, now leave before I call the guards on ya."

"Wait, I'll leave soon. But, do you know of any blacksmiths around here?"

The merchant laughed a deep hearty laugh. "You think there are blacksmiths here? Boy, open your eyes and look at those guards, look around you even."

Gendry looked at the guards scattered around the market, patrolling for thieves. They were all dressed in chain mail, with spears in their hands. He watched as one guard turned sideface and he saw it. _There's no swords in their hilts._

"There are no blacksmiths here, there's more than enough of that where you're from. This town may be large but it is what it is. A fishing village with a market square. You a blacksmith?"

"Aye, I apprenticed under Tobho Mott."

"Good fella, overpriced, but good. Sorry boy, better find something else to do or go back running to Flea Bottom."

The merchant turned around then as he saw a potential customer near him.

 _Now, what?_ Gendry asked himself.

With one of his worst fears realized, he wandered aimlessly through the stalls looking for a way into the main town.

 _Maybe the merchant lied, there must be a blacksmith here somewhere, there has to be,_ Gendry thought.

He found his way to the town. It wasn't narrow and crowded like Flea Bottom. The streets still cobbled, with mostly one story buildings, except for one that was four. He looked at the castle he saw from when he was still rowing. It looked much larger now up close. _Larger than the one in Dragonstone_ , he thought.

He noticed the sigil on the banners. There were two black warhammers crossed on a white saltire on blue. He had no idea what House it belonged to, but he knew one thing for sure from his conversation with the merchant, their loyal to the Lannisters.

 _And King's Landing must be nearby_ , he thought. As he realized in dismay, that there were no blacksmith shops in sight. He passed by multiple septs, and took note that they abided by Faith in the Seven here.

Gendry considered his options on what to do.

 _I can't travel by sea anymore, and I can't blacksmith for work anymore,_ he thought as he let a sigh escape his lips. _I could try to find the road to King's Landing_ , he pondered, but the empty bag of food rations told him that would be unwise right now.

 _I need food and water. I need work._

He pondered on what to do, while his feet unintentionally led him in front of the large four story building.

He stopped in his tracks and looked closely at the building. It was large and appeared to be well maintained. He could hear boisterous laughter and raucous voices from inside. He looked at the sign hanging in front of the building. There were seven wooden swords painted white.

 _Either a pub or an inn_ , he thought. _Gods, please be an inn. A pub would need women more than men._

He pushed the wooden doors open and walked inside to what appeared to be a common room. The inside was larger than it appeared from the outside. There were multiple tables along the length of the room, and a fire was on to one side. He saw stairs leading upwards, and with a sigh of relief noted multiple rooms throughout the second floor and higher.

 _It's an inn._

The smell of food wafted throughout the room. He felt his mouth water at the smell and his stomach growl. He was hungrier than he realized. _But first things first_.

First, he needs to work.

The place seemed busy, and it seemed like people kept passing through their wooden doors. He looked around and saw an elderly woman talking to a younger woman with a liver colored birthmark over her left eye. The elderly woman didn't appear frail in the slightest, though her back was hunched over a bit, she still appeared to be strict and cold. The younger woman left, scurrying off to do whatever the elder woman bided. _That must be the inn keeper_ , he thought. Then with sure feet, he crossed the room to approach her.

"Seven Blessings," he greeted the inn keeper, remembering the numerous septs he passed by.

"Seven Blessings, you want a meal? A room? What?" she replied in a raspy voice, while her cold black eyes surveyed him taking in his appearance.

"I have no money, but I'll work for food and lodging if possible. I'm strong, I worked as a blacksmith, I can chop wood for your fire"

She replied with a derisive snort. "We have enough workers here. I don't think I'll need you. You don't look that strong to me. Leave if you can't pay."

Gendry felt disheartened but he was desperate so he persisted. "Please, I can do whatever odd jobs you need to be done. I'll help in the kitchens, clean the tables, whatever you need."

He begged, his hunger and fatigue overcoming his pride. He felt helpless in front of the cold eyes of the inn keeper. But his pleas fell on deaf ears, or so he thought.

"If you don't need him, I'll take him," a gruff male voice said.

"Take him," the inn keeper said as she looked at the man who spoke. "Put him to good use." Then she walked away.

Gendry looked at the man who spoke. His face though wrinkled looked kind, and his hair was still brown but balding.

"Come boy, and sit. I'll pay for your food," he said as he lead Gendry back to two tables away. He waved for the young woman with the birthmark and said, "Get me some hot stew with bread, and a mug of milk and honey." The young woman never said a thing but rushed away in understanding.

"Why'd you help me?" Gendry asked the man, hesitating on whether to trust him.

"You look strong enough for me, and I need more men," the man replied while slurping up spoonfuls of hot stew in his mouth. "The name's Everard Bennett."

He tried to think of a different name, but couldn't think of anything. "Gendry," he said. "What's you need my help for?"

"You ever been on a boat?", Everard asked him.

"Yes."

"Good. See this stew here? It's made with the crabs I catch for them. I catch fish as well and sell it to those merchants or the other smaller inns. You're young and you seem strong enough, well at least once you eat probably."

"I've never caught fish before," he admitted to the man.

"Well, you'll learn. It's easy enough," the man said dismissively.

"How many men do you have working for you?"

"None anymore." He said, and Gendry swore he saw his brown eyes darken. They were disturbed by the sound of clacking bowls and mugs, as the woman from before placed a bowl of soup and a mug in front of him. Just like that, the moment was gone.

"Eat up boy, you'll need it."

Gendry obliged and his stomach thanked him. The hot crab soup was one of the best he'd ever tasted. He grabbed onto the bread given to him and took a large bite. He couldn't stop eating, in minutes, he devoured the soup and bread. As he was sipping the mug of milk and honey, he overheard the stories being shared at the table.

"...those corpse cart drivers have been trying to trick everyone I hear. They dressed up those smallfolks they have in their cart, saying they were casualties of the Red Wedding," said a man at their table. The man was gruff and was largely built, he looked like a proud man, though he couldn't guess what the man did for a living.

He looked to Everard beside him, and noted his steely expression.

"Gods bless the Lannisters! For finally giving those Northerners what they deserved", said another man at the table. To which all the rest cheered their mugs up in the air, spilling bits of the fluid from their cups onto the floor.

"You heard what they did to the leader, the one they called the King of the North, Robb Stark?" asked another.

But Gendry felt his blood run cold when he heard the name he's heard many times before. _Robb. Stark. Arya's brother._

"After all the arrows they put in him, the boy didn't go down. Not until, Lord Bolton stabbed him in the heart. They killed his direwolf and cut off his head, and sewed it on the boy's body. Parading it around the Twins," another man said and laughed at the story. The rest of the men there laughed as well.

"I guess the Young Wolf remained young forever, aye? To the King of the North!" they cheered mockingly. Rounds of laughter followed, and the topic eventually changed.

But Gendry didn't notice, everything that followed those words fell deaf on his ears. He gripped his mug tightly in his hand. The warmth from his meal was now gone. Shock and anger coursed through his veins, followed by fear.

 _The Lannisters wanted the Starks dead, even more than they wanted him gone._ He pictured his highborn friend's face in his head.

 _If she was there.._ his thought trailed away, interrupted by the voice of Everard. Gendry didn't notice he had stood up until the man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on boy, we got work to do," he said. Gendry noticed there was no cheer in this man's voice like the many voices around him. Gendry looked at his face and saw nothing, _he's guarded_.

He willed himself to swallow the rest of milk in his mug. Though the mug felt warm, the liquid flowed cold in his throat until it settled in his stomach.

He followed Everard's lead and stood up and walked away. Inwardly digesting the disturbing news he heard. He silently mourned for the Starks, especially his friend who he believed right now is probably dead.

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 _ **The Red Wedding is still a painful memory for me, and it hurt me to let Gendry learn about it this way. But I felt it necessary. :(**_

 _ **On a lighter note, thank you to all those who have read my story up to here. I still think the Gendry in my story has some more growing and learning to undergo. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. :D Till, next time :)**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Hi! Thank you for reaching this far in the story. Usual disclaimer, I do not own the characters (except for the one I've made up) or the realm of Game of Thrones. I hope this chapter isn't too boring. So, enjoy!**_

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Gendry found himself on a larger ship than his rowboat. Everard was right, he had no other men. It was just him and Everard on this large ship that must have held 5 times more people once before.

 _I wonder what happened to them_ , he thought. But as he recalled the darkness in Everard's eyes when he recalled his previous men, he dared not ask out loud.

It wasn't his first time to be on a ship, but it was his first time to be on one without feeling like a prisoner. He took his time to explore around, from bow to stern. He looked out to the grey-green water of the sea, appreciating it now more than ever. He watched as the ship moved forward leaving white bubbly tides in its midst. He noticed there were no cabins in this ship like the one he'd been on before. _I guess it's not meant for far travels._

After he walked around the ship two times, he decided to look for Everard and see if there's anything he could help with. He found him squatting at the portside of the ship. He seemed to be inspecting a giant net with immense concentration.

"..Everard?.." he called hesitantly. No reply. He seemed busy inspecting the net.

"Everard?" he asked now louder, finally he looked up.

"Sorry boy – I'mean Gendry – was just checking the net. When we get further enough from the shore we'll throw it into the sea and haul it back in." He explained, while gesturing what needed to be done at the same time.

"How far away are we heading?"

"A bit more further out," he said looking back to see how far the shore was.

A silence followed as Gendry stared out to see the receding image of Duskendale.

"Sit down here boy, why don't you help me look for tears in the net?"

Gendry sat down obligingly and started examining the large net in his hands. In the silence and serene feeling of the gentle rocking of the ship, he felt at ease. He still wondered if somehow he'd been found out, if this was another trap. He just kept on receiving blessings in the form of people taking him in. He was thankful for the warm meal he had, surely he was, but he learned that some things were too good to be true. Then his memory gravitated back to the conversation he overheard at the inn. A shiver spread through his spine as he pushed the memory to the back of his head. Before his thoughts could lead him further into the topic of the Starks, a voice thankfully interrupted his train of thoughts,

"So where you from boy?"

"Flea Bottom." Gendry replied immediately before he could think of a lie.

"Flea Bottom? King's Landing.. so whatcha doing all the way here in Duskendale?"

This time Gendry had to think before he spoke. _I can't really say that I'm running away from a red priestess who wants my blood_ , he thought. _The best lies are based on the truth._

"Was headed North to join the Night's Watch," he finally settled with. _It was the original plan after all._

Everard gave a hearty laugh at his reply to Gendry's bewilderment.

"You heading North? Through here? The forest north of Duskendale is swarming with bandits and thieves, and worse. You're alone and unarmed," he said while looking at Gendry, "You won't make it boy. Nothing good lies in the North." Gendry swore that the last sentence was uttered with a hint of solemness.

Silence once again followed and they both continued their work. Until it was Gendry this time who broke the silence.

"Never got to thank you for the meal earlier.. Thank you." He said

He saw Everard look at him and smile before he said, "Fair work for fair wages. You'll help me till the day comes when you decide on where you're heading. North or South."

Everard stood up, taking a quick look to check for the shore and a quick look ahead.

"We're here boy. Reckon that the meal strengthened you up a bit. You'll find an anchor with a rope tied around it at the stern," he said gesturing to the rear of the boat, "throw it down to anchor the ship, then come back here to help me."

Gendry gave a nod of understanding before rushing to the stern. He held the anchor with both his hands which protested at the effort. He forgot about his unhealed blisters until this moment, but paid no mind. With great effort, he flung the anchor down below watching it sink to the bottom of the sea, and feeling the slight tug of the ship as it reached the bottom. He rushed back to the portside and found Everard untangling the net, now it seemed to be laid out in a sheet.

"Grab the other end of the net, boy," Everard instructed him. Gendry did as he said.

"When I say so, we throw it over the edge? Got it? Good," he said barely looking up at Gendry when he spoke.

"Okay, NOW. THROW." he said. Gendry saw the net drift off into the sea, slowly going deeper until it blended into grey-green.

"What do we do now?" he asked Everard, unsure of what usually happens.

"Wait a moment, then we'll haul it back up and see if we get anything," Everard explained to him. Before Gendry could think of something else to say, Everard finally said, "Okay, let's haul her up."

They both grabbed the rope that was attached to the net and hauled up the net. _It was much easier throwing it off the boat_ , he noted. Finally, he saw the net's edge grace the side of the boat. They kept on pulling, then finally it was there. The net was full of fish and crabs, thrashing for their lives fighting to get back to the sea that kept them alive.

"Come on boy, help me. The fish go into that large blue bucket over there, the crabs go in the red."

Gendry kneeled by the net and tried to grab the fish, but found it was a bit hard. He used both his hands to grasp unto the squirming fish as he threw them into the bucket. Slowly, he got used to their slippery feel. As he reached out to grab a crab, the crab retaliated threatening to cut his fingers off. He was surprised at its rigor.

"Gotta grab them from out of eyesight boy. Can't get them head on. See their eyes? They're just like us, if you threaten them head on no good will come to ya. Here, watch," Everard said as he showed Gendry how it's done. He placed his hand behind and out of sight of the crab as he placed a finger each under it's legs, then he held it and put it into the bucket. "See? Now go on, try it out."

Gendry noted where the eyes of another crab was facing and did as Everard did. Though a bit more hesitant, but finally, he got it and put it in the bucket. He smiled at his small achievement. Everard interrupted his prideful moment, "Good. Go on boy, don't stop now. We still gotta do this a few more times."

Finally, all they caught were now found in buckets. They straightened out the net again then threw it over the boat, and then repeated this process again.

"How many times do you throw the net down?" Gendyr asked.

"Usually, by the fourth time there aren't many left anymore."

"That's a lot of fish," Gendry said, amazed by the effort it took. It's the third time for the net to be thrown overboard, and Gendry already realized how important eating that meal was. _It's more exhausting than I thought it would be_ , he thought.

They then pulled the net back onboard the ship. He noticed that there were fewer fish and crabs now, compared to the first. It took them less time to place them into their respective buckets.

They cast the net again for the fourth time. As they waited a bit before pulling it back unto the ship, Gendry saw Everard inspecting the buckets.

"What's the matter?" Gendry asked.

"Nothing much. It's just fewer than before.." he trailed off in thought for awhile then asked Gendry, "You ever use a spear before?"

"No, never."

"Well, now you'll learn. It's the only way to catch bigger fish. After this batch, we'll head a bit further out where the waters aren't as deep. We'll catch some more before the tides come in."

They then hauled the net back up, there were barely any fish now.

"Reel the anchor up, boy. Let's go."

Gendry rushed to the stern and reeled the anchor up. It took a lot more effort than the net, but eventually he reeled it back up freeing the ship.

He saw Everard adjust the sails, then he felt the ship start moving.

He checked for the position of the sun, it was still fairly high up. _It's probably mid-afternoon,_ he thought.

They only sailed a few meters away until Gendry was told to let down the anchor.

"Come on, let's climb down now, boy."

Gendry stared down into the sea, he couldn't tell how deep it was. He hesitated. "I can't swim," he admitted, too afraid to look Everard in the eyes as he said it.

There was a brief silence until Everard climbed down first into the water. "You don't need to swim, it's not deep," he said reassuringly. "Pass me 2 of those spears by your side first, then climb down."

Gendry took hold of the two spears and threw them down gently to him. Then he did as he was told and climbed down into the sea. The water reached a bit above his waist. Everard then handed him the other spear he had.

"We'll walk a bit further down, where the water is lower. Nothing ta worry about." He said as he took the lead and Gendry followed.

"Around here is good enough," he finally said.

"Okay boy, just stand still. Don't move or make too much noise. The water's clear you can see anything in the waters. Don't bother with the small ones, aim for the big fish."

They stood still, and Gendry saw a big fish swim past to the side of Everard. Then in one fluid movement, he saw Everard bring down the spear, catching the fish at its tip. He noticed now the bag slung across his shoulder, where he now placed the fish he caught.

Gendry watched the waters again, waiting for a big fish to pass by. He saw one pass to his left, he followed it with his eyes and gripped the spear in his hand. He struck the spear down, and missed. He saw the fish he set his eyes on swim away.

"Ha," he heard Everard release a bit of a laugh at his effort. "You're strong boy, but not quick at all. Try to strike faster," he said as he spotted another fish and caught it. Gendry lost count now of how many fish Everard had caught by now. He felt frustrated now and humiliated.

He tried again, and failed.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Gendry could feel his embarrasment growing with each try. He tried again, and missed yet again.

"It's about time we headed back," Everard said. "Come on, you'll have more days to try again. Don't worry," he said consolingly.

Gendry followed Everard back to the boat, eyeing the bag across his shoulder bulging at the seams from the weight of the fish that he had caught. Gendry gripped the spear tighter in his hand. _Next time,_ he thought to himself.

They climbed onto the ship now, and he saw the fish being poured from the bag into the bucket. "Get the anchor up and let's head back."

Gendry reeled the anchor up with much effort. Finally, they set sail back to the port of Duskendale. He could feel the tiredness set in and started thinking. _It must have been harder for him before, fishing out here alone_ , he thought with immense appreciation for the man that took him in.

He saw the sun setting as they approached the port, its rays shining down on the town before him. _It's no King's Landing, but it is beautiful_ , he thought.

As their ship was close enough to the port, he heard Everard say "Let the anchor down." He did as he was told to.

"Come on, let's get some money for these," Everard said as he handed Gendry a bucket.

They departed the ship and head into town, where he watched as Everard went to each inn and pub showing to the owner's the day's catch. He started at the inn where they met, the largest one in town, and let them have the first buy. Each time the buckets got lighter while Everard's pockets grew heavier with payment. Finally, as the hint of stars began to shine, they reached the last place in town. Their catch of the day was bought at last, leaving only a few fish behind in the bucket.

"That's all boy. Let's go home, aye?" Everard said cheerily to Gendry as he led him through the cobbled streets to a quaint hut past the main town square. He stepped inside and saw a small fireplace with a small table in front of it. There were three chairs he noted, but as far as he could tell, no one else was home.

Everard slunk down in a chair, letting the tiredness he felt show. "Put some logs and start the fire, boy." Gendry did as he was told. He saw Everard place the bucket by the kitchen and chopped the fish up into pieces placing it in a pot.

He watched him cook and found the bowls on the kitchen counter. He grabbed two and placed them on the table. Finally, the food was done, and Gendry suddenly felt his hunger overcome him.

"You gonna pray boy?" he heard Everard ask.

Gendry didn't know the prayer of the Seven, he wasn't accustomed to praying. "Don't know the words. Not sure I believe in the gods all that much," he replied honestly.

He feared his honesty would make him angry, but it didn't. Everard looked at him, then to the empty chair beside Gendry, and said "Me neither."

He then took the large pot in his hands and poured the fish soup in, and Gendry followed suit. The soup was almost as good as the hot crab soup he had at the inn. They devoured their food in silence. When the pot and bowls were empty, Gendry took them to the sink to clean.

"There's an empty room their to your right, nothing fancy. I'll put some clothes on your bed for you to wear." Everard said.

"This place is fancy enough for me," he said, "Thank you."

"It's nothing boy. Get some rest, I'll need your strength in the morrow." Everard said as he walked away to what was probably his quarters.

When Gendry finished with the bowls, he headed to the quarters that would be his. He stepped in, and saw a small bed, like the one he slept on before in King's Landing and saw the clothes on top of his bed.

He picked up the clothes and saw it fit him perfectly. He lay down on the bed, welcoming sleep after the long day he's had. Before Gendry could even think about how long he'd stay here in Duskendale, or how he'd get back to King's landing, there was only one thought in his head before he drifted off to sleep.

 _I need to get stronger_.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Hi guys! It's been awhile since the holidays kept me busy. :)) Happy new year ;) Anyways, I know this chapter is shorter than the others. I was planning on making it longer and more dramatic, but I thought maybe not. It's a peaceful end to the Duskendale arc. I wanted to give Gendry a little break. :) I hope you guys enjoy this! Disclaimer again: I do not own the characters or any part of the realms in Game of Thrones. I only have my imagination.**_

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He found himself in the narrow streets of Flea Bottom. Ruined buildings surrounding the streets, towering as high almost as the sun in the sky. _It's around noon time_ , he noted. He walked the narrow streets, catching glimpses of dark alleyways. He turned his eyes away from any suspicious glances. He saw a flash of a red cloak in his peripheral vision and turned suddenly. Gendry could feel his heart race and a lump form in his throat. He continued on his way, slowly.

 _But to where?_

 _Where am I headed?_

He payed no head to the voice inside his head and let his feet takeover. He noticed that instead of heading lower to the Street of Steal, his feet were leading him away. He looked up and saw the image of the Red Keep steadily becoming larger and larger with every step he took. _I shouldn't be here, this is not my place._

"But it is."

He startled at the voice and turned away abruptly. "This is your place." said the female voice. Gendry swore out loud.

"Arya? Wha-? Why? Are you really-?"

He stepped closer to reach his friend, but with every step he took she seemed to be further and further away. She smiled and turned her back. Gendry broke out into a run to catch her. He could almost touch her brunette hair in his hand.

Almost.

Almost.

But he fell flat on his face, and awoke with a start.

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Gendry awoke with his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath which he never lost. He looked around and found himself in the same room he's woken up to for over a fortnight. He pinched the crook of his arm to make sure he was awake.

"It was just a dream. Just a dream." He took deep breaths to calm himself and dressed for the day. Gendry had had the same dream for the past week or so, but this was the closest he had got to reaching his friend. The image of her was still burned in his brain so vividly that even if he were to close his eyes, he could still see her.

He wiped the sweat from his body and headed outside to wait for Everard. _I'm in Duskendale, not King's Landing_. He oriented himself to his routine that he had become accustomed to. He adapted quickly to the way of life here. It was peaceful and pleasant for a change.

 _But I can't stay here forever_. Gendry knew that. Everard probably knew that. It remained to be a fact that he had put off acknowledging for a time. With every night, the reminder of his destination had become constant and unsettling.

"You okay, boy?" He heard Everard's gruff voice say.

" 'M fine," he said as he helped himself onto the boat and reeled up the anchor to leave the port.

He watched the sight of the receding shoreline as the boat sailed further and further away. He and Everard went on to untangle the fishing net. His fingers more sure and fast, it only took a few minutes to untangle the whole net. He looked to the man who had been kind enough to take care of him. A man who treated him like a son. It will be hard to say goodbye and leave him all alone. _I have to tell him._

"Everard?"

"Aye, boy?"

He hesitated as he let the words settle on the tip of his tongue.

"I've decided. I'll be leaving in the morrow."

Silence followed as the words seemed to hang heavily in the air. He looked to Everard, who had his head bowed down looking at the untangled net in front of him. He saw him nod his head slowly.

"I see, Boy. You heading North or South?"

"South. To King's Landing."

Everard smiled at that. "Aye. You'd better get yourself home."

The silence was no longer heavy, and Gendry felt the sense of relief flood through his body. The day went on uneventfully. The sight of the glistening sea water and the feel of the mist of sea water spray against his face made him feel nostalgic. He felt like they were bidding him farewell. They had caught plenty of fish to sell with the net.

He noticed though that the boat wasn't headed back to Duskendale just yet.

"Where are we going?"

"Might as well catch some more. Still early after all, and it might be your last time to hold a spear in your hands."

He saw Everard lead the boat near the shallow waters. They disembarked and walked the rest of the way.

Gendry looked at the spear in his hand. It felt as familiar as a blacksmith's hammer now. He saw a large fish approaching from his right, and he striked swiftly down and felt the head of the spear catch the fish. He caught fish after fish, almost matching the amount that Everard caught.

"You've gotten better boy," Everard said as he looked at the bag full of Gendry's catch. The weight of the bag on his shoulder felt reassuring.

"Come on. Best head back now."

They boarded the ship and sailed back to Duskendale. As the sight of the port approached, Gendry took in the sight of the glistening walls and the town that laid within them. He saw the rocky highlands he somehow navigated through when he first arrived at the port. He looked at his hands, noting the scars he acquired from his journey. The skin tougher than it was before.

They disembarked and anchored the ship to the port. They each took a bucket of fish and crabs and headed into the town for their daily rounds. Each shop owner scrutinizing their catch, making sure they chose the best that they could. The buckets became lighter with each visit until they reached the last one. The sun now was a mere centimeter away from the horizon, shining it's golden rays as far as it could before it went to hide away. The cobbled stones glowed in the sunset, and the distant chattering of drunk men flowed out into the streets.

Gendry's musings were interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"That's all boy. Let's go home aye?" he said as he usually did as he led the way back to his home. _But not mine_.

They had caught and sold a lot. The bucket contained only 2 pieces of fish. Gendry went on to prepare the soup and set the table. The smell of the soup enveloped the air. Everard waited patiently as he lit the fire hearth. Finally, the soup was done and they finally ate.

"There's some ale in the cupboard o'er there to the left. Go get some."

Gendry obliged and poured the ale into two mugs. He set the mugs on the table and took a sip from his mug. The liquid stung his throat and made his eyes water. _How old is this ale?_ , he wondered as he felt the liquid finally settle in his stomach. Everard took a large gulp of the ale and sighed, content with the warmth of the liquid.

"Good eh? My son made it before..." and his voice trailed off. Instead of more words leaving, Everard gulped down the rest of the ale in his mug. He stood up and poured more ale into his mug.

Before Gendry could attempt to fill the silence, Everard reached into his pocket and placed a bag of money on the table and pushed it towards Gendry. He stared at the bag confused.

"Take it. You'll need it." Everard nodded to the bag of money and gestured for him to take it.

"I can't- I mean. It's yours." Gendry refused to touch the bag. _He needs it more_ , he thought as he imagined how the man would be without his help. He felt a sliver of guilt inch itself under his skin.

"No it's not. Go on boy, take it. It's from the fish you caught." Everard sighed as he saw the younger boy still hesitate. He pushed the bag further now, almost to the edge of the table.

"You'll need it more than I do, don't worry. The Rosby road to King's Landing is full of fishing villages, use it for food or for a bed at an inn."

Gendry eventually gave in and took the bag in his hand and felt the weight fill his pocket.

"Thank you..for everything." he said. He saw the relief fill Everard's eyes when he finally took the money.

They finished their food and drank more ale until the embers of the fire started to die down. Everard stared solemnly into the dwindling fire. Gendry gathered enough courage to ask him a question he'd had on his mind for a while now.

"What happened to your son?" Gendry asked the question so quietly, he was unsure of whether the words really left his lips. The silence that followed didn't help his doubt. Gendry eventually stood up and gathered the dishes and mugs to wash. With his back turned, he was startled to hear Everard finally reply.

"Highborns did em in, and the gods.. they let them."

Gendry turned to see Everard turn away from the dying fire. "Get some sleep, you'll need it when you leave in the morrow." Then he entered his room and Gendry heard the small click as the door closed behind him.

He finished the dishes and entered to the room he'd been using. He closed the door and felt himself release a breath he didn't know he was holding. He thought back to the dark cold dungeon of Dragonstone, to the conversation he had with Ser Davos about his son.

"The highborns kill the lowborns, other highborns kill other highborns...Lord's son, or a fisher's..there's no difference is there?" he mused out loud. He touched the bag of coins in his pocket, listening to the clinking of coins.

 _My highborn blood can kill me or save me just as much as the lowborn in me._

Gendry pushed the fear of death away, hiding it in a corner of his mind.

"Arya Stark, Ser Davos." He reminded himself of the two people he owed his life to, and he let the calmness engulf him in the silence of the night. He fell asleep at last.

This time he did not dream of King's Landing, only of a certain brunette. He opened his eyes slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He looked outside and saw the sky begin to lighten.

 _It's time to go_.

He took one last look at the room and stepped out into the kitchen. He was startled to see Everard standing there, with his usual smile on his face. He saw Everard hold out his hand, and he met it with his hand as well.

"Be safe boy. Safe journeys."

"Aye. Stay safe as well."

He smiled then stepped outside and headed southwest to the Rosby road. He eventually found the path that will lead him to King's Landing. He saw the sun begin to rise behind him as he took one last look at Duskendale. The sight of the town slowly being engulfed in the gentle sunlight was beautiful and not lost on Gendry. He allowed himself one more second, then he took a deep breath and faced ahead on the road in front of him. He walked forward with steps full of resolve.

 _Goodbye, Duskendale. It's time to go home_.


End file.
